S is for Stalker
by nicol-leoraine
Summary: Someone holds a grudge against Harvey and Mike is the convenient target.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _This fic was written for the alphabet_soup challenge but was inspired by a prompt over at suits_gen meme, where kriadydragon wanted a dangerous client who makes Harvey and Mike's lives miserable. It took me a little while, but here's the first chapter of the fic. The rest will follow shortly. As always, thanks to my beta Tania._

* * *

Trial went surprisingly well, especially considering Harvey's dislike for them. It couldn't be helped though, the opposition didn't want to settle and the client wanted blood. Thanks to Mike's eye for detail and several all nighters, Harvey presented the judge with irrefutable evidence, winning the case. Pity the kid was unable to see him in action. Harvey felt that he'd given a great performance. Patting shoulders with the happy client, Harvey was already looking forward to the celebratory night, a night that didn't involve work or work partners, just him, a bottle of good wine and a nice, warm body in his bed. Or anywhere in the apartment, Harvey thought with a smirk. He was just heading out of the courtroom when he spotted a familiar skinny tie rushing his way. Letting out a sigh, Harvey changed his direction lightly, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"Do I need to find a new associate now? Or will bribing Donna to come up with your alibi be enough?"

"What?" Mike frowned in confusion, falling in step right next to Harvey. Seeing the raised eyebrow, he huffed and shook his head.

"No, actually Donna already came up with something. She wanted me to bring you these files and let you know that Dan Miller rescheduled his appointment. You have a reservation for Ronaldo's in one hour." Mike handed him the files, smirking at the look that passed Harvey's face. It looked similar to a person who was suffering from indigestion, and Mike knew it wasn't from the thought of eating at Ronaldo's, but from the thought of having a prolonged conversation with Dan Miller. He was one of Harvey's least liked clients.

"I heard you won the trial," Mike said and Harvey got his satisfied look back. "It sucks I couldn't be there. I bet it was impressive, especially when you presented the false bank accounts I found last night," Mike added, with a self satisfied smirk. This time Harvey did roll his eyes and was of a half mind to give the kid a frown, but he had to admit that Mike had helped.

"Well, I'll admit that thanks to you we got the case closed with a little less all nighters, but that's all the credit I'll give you kid. We both know how you fare at trials."

Mike grimaced momentarily, but then he smiled.

"You're welcome," he said, and ignored Harvey's protests that he did not offer any thanks. They bickered all the way to the car, pausing only to give Ray directions to Ronaldo's. None of them noticed the man stepping out of the building, watching them with hateful eyes, until they got in the car. The man clenched his fists and watched as the car pulled away from the curb. Several passersby threw him a curious look and instinctively quickened their steps. The man ignored them, shaking off his sudden stupor. He had a goal and it was time to act on it.

OoooO

Mike was in the middle of proofing when his phone started ringing. It was one of the many files Louis had thrown at his desk earlier in the morning, so Mike grabbed the phone eagerly, welcoming any distraction.

"Mr. Ross? This is Evan, from Reception."

Mike frowned, trying to think of a reason why the receptionist would be calling him.

"A gentleman came in and reported that someone damaged one of the bikes parked outside. I went to have a look, and it seems like you have a broken tail light. Thought you might want to check it out for further damage."

"Oh." Mike's frown deepened, one hand rubbing at his temple. A broken bike. Just his luck. "Did you... did anyone see who did that?" Mike asked after a moment, already knowing the answer.

"Sorry sir. The gentleman said he saw some youngsters around but couldn't give a description, and our surveillance system doesn't cover that space. Do you want me to call the police?"

"No, that's okay. I doubt they could do anything about it now. Thanks for letting me know, I'll be down in a minute," Mike said with a sigh and hung up. The day had just started, but he was already wishing for it to be over.

A few minutes later, Mike waved at Evan as he passed by to check on his bike, and true to his word, he found the tail light broken. Squatting down, Mike checked the frame and tires, but couldn't find any more damage. For a moment he thought about taking the bike upstairs with him, but he could imagine Harvey's scowl, and the last thing he wanted to add to his day were comments about the office not being a parking lot. The lock wasn't tampered with and he figured if the 'youngsters' wanted to do more damage, they would've done it the first time around. The ringing phone and Harvey's voice on the other end demanding his presence put all thought about the bike out of his head. The rest of the day was spent in hectic preparation for a new case and it was late in the evening when Mike finally found himself on the way home. Tired and grumpy, Mike hopped onto his bike and hoped that the cops wouldn't notice his light was broken, and the street lights would be enough for any passing cars to see him.

Luck seemed to be with him after all, because he made it home without any accidents or tickets. He was just pulling out his keys and unlocking the front door when he felt a chill run down his back. The feeling of being watched. Turning quickly, Mike looked around. While the neighborhood wasn't the most dangerous in the city, it wasn't exactly very safe either. Frozen, Mike looked at the shadows but couldn't see anyone. It was already dark and there could have been someone hiding in the bushes or behind the dumpsters, but all he saw were two older woman walking steadily, chatting away. Nothing suspicious.

_Must be nerves_, Mike thought, and turned back to the door, throwing the bike over his shoulder. He was almost inside when he heard the engine of the car, passing by. Something about the sound didn't fit. The car was going too slow. Turning to look, Mike saw a grey Ford Focus slowing to a crawl, as if the driver was trying to decide where to go. He must've figured out his destination, because the engine roared suddenly and the Ford disappeared behind a corner. Mike shook off the strange feeling, though he made sure the door was locked before he started the way up to his apartment. A person could never be too careful after all.

OoooO

The next morning Mike headed out a little earlier and stopped by a shop to buy a new tail light, promising himself to either fix it during his lunch break or else head home before nightfall. When he arrived at work he was met by Harvey, ready to go out and talk to a witness in their latest case. Mike thought he would be lucky to have a lunch break at all, and pushed his bike into the back of his mind. There were more pressing issues to deal with. Like finding out why Harvey was so keen to go and do some leg work when usually he just made Mike to it.

The question was still unanswered even after the half hour ride to their client's house later that day, and Mike was kinda out of ideas on how to get an answer from Harvey, who seemed to be enjoying his puppy's plight. Muttering under his nose about cruel bastards, Mike stepped out of the car and followed Harvey to the house. Well, he wanted to follow him, but a passing car caught his attention. It was a grey Ford and it seemed to be cruising the neighborhood, looking for a parking space. The moment Mike looked up and towards the driver though, the car sped up and vanished down the street.

Something churned in Mike's gut and he frowned.

"I don't pay you for sleeping on the job," Harvey's voice broke through his thoughts and Mike startled.

"Huh?"

Harvey's eyebrow went up as he gave Mike a quizzical look. "Eloquent. If I'd known you were gonna stand there all day, I would've left you at the office. Plenty of files waiting for you there."

"Sorry," Mike shook his head and fell in step next to Harvey. "Just... had this crazy feeling."

"Did you turn and see the city turning to ashes like Lot's wife?"

Mike shook his head, still too lost in thought to appreciate Harvey's humor. "Nah. Ever had the feeling you're being followed? I could swear I saw the same car before by my apartment last night."

Harvey's eyebrows shot up and he grabbed Mike's arm dramatically. "Kid, you better be straight with me now. Does paranoia or schizophrenia run in your family? Just so I know if Donna should remove any pointy objects from your desk, or be on the lookout for tin hats."

Mike snorted, throwing a disapproving glare towards Harvey. "Funny. Yeah, you chose the wrong profession, Mr. Specter. Maybe you should've pursued an acting career instead, or stand-up comedy."

"Wait, you telling me this isn't some procedural show we're acting in?" Harvey's eyes went wide and Mike couldn't stop the grin at the mock horror. "Shoot, kid, in that case, we better start focusing on our client, least we lose the case, don't you agree?"

Harvey waited until Mike gave him an amused nod, only then did he ring the doorbell.

OoooO

It was finally Friday and Mike was done with the pile of files on his desk. They were still waiting for some documents on their latest case, but everything was moving along smoothly, and Mike had high hopes that his weekend would be work free. So it was in high spirits that he finally left Pearson-Hardman and hopped up on his bike, looking forward for a quiet movie night with a cold beer and sleeping in. Tomorrow could be spent visiting his Grandma, and maybe a call to Jenny wouldn't be amiss either. Head filled with weekend plans, Mike pedaled on, eager to get home. The bike gave a slight jerk as Mike came off the sidewalk but he ignored it, too lost in thoughts. What he couldn't ignore was the sudden loss of balance as he leaned over the handles. His eyes caught sight of his front tire rolling away, even as his whole body was flying over the handles that where no longer supported by the tire. Mike barely blinked, mouth open in surprise and his body instinctively curled up as he was met by the hard asphalt. His helmet hit the unyielding ground moments after his right wrist took the brunt of the impact. Still in motion, Mike grunted and rolled until his back hit a sidewalk.

Tires screeched and horns blared as several cars passed by dangerously close, but Mike didn't hear them. All he heard was the rush of blood and his panicked heartbeat. His vision dimmed but he didn't black out, couldn't. Not when he saw a pair of headlights heading right towards him. Yelping, Mike threw himself aside, into safety. He heard a crack as the car's tires ran over the frame of his bike and he fought the nausea as he imagined how it could have easily it been him.

"My God, are you okay?" Someone was leaning over him, an older guy. Mike blinked up at him, pulling his eyes off the wreck of his bike and focusing on the man instead.

"What?"

"Are you okay? Should I call an ambulance?"

"N-no, don't. I'm fine," Mike said shakily and tried to sit up. It wasn't the first time he'd fallen off his bike, but never had he taken such a dive. Still, the mention of an ambulance pushed shock into the background.

"Are you sure? It was quite a fall." The man looked studiously over Mike's body. Groaning, Mike gave a small smile and managed to push himself up into a sitting position, though he couldn't stifle the yelp of pain when he tried to put pressure on his right hand. Frowning, he looked at his hand, which was already bleeding from the abrasions. The wrist felt swollen and painful but he didn't think it was broken. Maybe sprained. Letting out a sigh, Mike thought about taking an inventory of his injuries. He had a headache, but the helmet had taken most of the brunt and he hadn't passed out, so possibly no head injury. Hopefully. His ribs and chest felt fine, for which Mike sent up a silent prayer of thanks. His knees felt raw and stung, and there was a tear in his pants, but otherwise he felt okay.

"I'm good," he said with a sigh and managed a much more convincing smile. The man seemed dubious but let it slide, instead nodding towards the remnants of the bike scattered across the road.

"Definitely better than the bike. But you were lucky. I saw that car heading right towards you. Man, that wouldn't have been pretty!"

"Yeah," Mike agreed with a choked up voice. "Damn lucky." Shaking his head, he pressed his injured hand to his chest and stood up, swaying a little before the man put a steadying hand on his arm. He gave him a silent thanks and once the world had stopped spinning, his eyes went wide and he started looking around frantically. "My bag. Did you see a messenger bag? God, I had files in there!" The thought of his bag being run over by cars, the files lying there, on the street, haphazardly, was worse than the thought of his bike being ruined.

"Hey, relax. It's over there." The man pointed to the side of the road only few yards behind and Mike let out a relieved sigh.

"Thank you," he said and picked up the bag, smiling as he saw the lock still holding it closed. Small miracles.

"So, do you want to call a cab or a friend or something?" the man asked, pulling out a cell.

Mike reflexively reached into his pocket and checked his cell, happy when he found it working, although a little scraped. "Nah, I can handle it. Thank you, for you know... caring," he added and found he really meant it. After all, several people had seen him fall, almost be run over by a car, but this guy was the only one who stopped by and offered help.

"Yeah, well, someone has to step up once in a while," the man said, and there was a sudden hardness in his voice that made Mike look up. The man looked haggard, his clothes a little rumpled as if he'd spent one or two nights in them, but he was shaved and clean. His eyes were a little puffy, as if he hadn't gotten much sleep, and there was a sense of the whole world hanging on his shoulders, and Mike had the sudden feeling that maybe the guy was in need of help more than himself.

"In any case, I appreciate it." He reached out with his uninjured hand, offering a shake and the man took it.

"Well, my name is Eddie Banks, if you ever feel like sending me a fruit basket or something," Eddie said with a smile and Mike grinned.

"Mike Ross. I'm not sure about fruit baskets, but if you need legal advice, I might be able to help with that."

"Ah, a lawyer," Eddie grimaced and Mike got the feeling he didn't like lawyers that much.

"And now you're wondering if you should have just pushed me under that car, aren't you?" he joked, and Eddie laughed and shook his head.

"Nah, would be more trouble than it's worth. I guess having a lawyer on my side is better than having one working against me." Just then Eddie's phone started ringing and he grimaced.

"Well, looks like I gotta go. You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, go. I will just call a cab. Thanks again for your help."

"You're welcome. Take care," Eddie said and sprinted off. Sighing, Mike took off his helmet and ran a hand through his hair, wincing as he discovered a small bump. Cursing, he stood there for a moment, trying to decide what to do. In the end he pulled the wrecked frame of his bike off the street and leaned it against the nearest dumpster. He really couldn't bother himself with the darned thing anymore. After several tries, he managed to flag down a cab and finally headed home. Only when he was in his apartment, sitting in the kitchen and wrapping his swelling wrist, did his thoughts turn toward the accident itself and what had caused it. He replayed the scene over and over in his head and each time, he felt the front tire give when he rode down the pavement, onto the road, rolling out of the frame. Adding this to the earlier damage on his tail light, Mike couldn't help reaching the conclusion that someone had a personal vendetta against his bike.

Try as he might, Mike couldn't come up with a single person holding a grudge against him lately, or any reason why his bike would be the target. But each time he thought about the accident, he saw the car lights heading towards him and heard the blaring horns and he had to fight down the rising nausea. It had been close, too close for his liking.

It was close to midnight when Mike felt the adrenaline rush fade away and his eyes started shutting on their own accord. It was time for bed. Limping slightly, his knees giving a painful twitch each time the scraped skin tensed, Mike made his way slowly towards the bed, deciding that he would leave the thinking for tomorrow, along with the decision on whether he should buy another bike or just ride the subway for few weeks.

He fell into bed, feeling like he could sleep through the whole weekend.

OoooO

The shrill sound of the doorbell broke through the haze of sleep and Mike groaned, rubbing his eyes. It felt like he'd only slept for five minutes, and a look at the clock told him it was still the middle of the night. Two in the morning, to be exact. Mike blinked, thinking that maybe it was all just a dream, but the ringing resumed and Mike frowned in disbelief. Who the hell could that be?

After twenty more seconds of the awful sound, Mike crawled out of the bed, feeling all the bruises flare to life.

"Damn it, shut up!" he uttered to the empty room. He made it all the way to the door when the ringing finally stopped. Still, he looked out of the peep hole, somehow relieved to find the hallway empty. It must've been some drunken neighbor trying to get home and mixing up the bells, Mike figured grumpily, and walked back towards the bed, only stopping to grab a Tylenol, hoping it would help with the throbbing wrist and the headache. Falling asleep the second time wasn't as easy, but once the pill kicked in, Mike managed to find a position that was relatively comfortable and closed his eyes, only to open them as the buzzer started ringing again.

"You gotta be kidding," he uttered in disbelief as the clock showed four a.m. Now recognizing the sound as the buzzer from the main door downstairs, Mike headed right towards the window and peeked out, trying to spot the offending prankster. But the angle was wrong and while he could see most of the street and the parking lot, there was no way to look at the front door. Cursing, Mike had a fleeting thought about going down and tell whatever idiot it was to just fucking stop the noise, but even Mike realized it was just wishful thinking. No sane person would go down to confront some stranger, not without a gun or at least half dozen of other guys providing back up. Not in this neighborhood, not without being suicidal. Mike could call the cops, but even though he was now working for Harvey and being surrounded by law enforcement occurred on daily basis, it didn't mean he trusted them, or wanted to deal with them in his during his personal life. The only other solution, the easiest one, was to simply disable the buzzer. After a session of cursing, as it took some time to disable the buzzer with only one working hand and sleep induced fuzziness, Mike managed to get back to sleep around five. When he woke up it was to sunlight shining in his eyes and the sounds of his neighbors moving around the apartment above his, possibly moving furniture, if the sounds were anything to go by. It was almost noon though and a grumbling stomach pushed Mike out of bed. It took a hot shower, some coffee and a late breakfast for Mike to start feeling human again, and although he felt like one of the cars had run over him instead of his bike, he headed out to his grams.

OoooO

Having spent most of the day at his grandmother's home had a relaxing effect on Mike. There was also the added bonus of one of the nurses taking a look at his wrist and re-wrapping it in a more fashionable way. He stayed until dinner and then went home, feeling tired but in a much better mood. Settling down in the kitchen, Mike pulled out some of the files from work that needed a little proof reading and turned on his iPod. When he felt sleep tugging at him it was barely ten, but taking in last night's interruptions, Mike closed the files and went to bed. He was in the middle of a dream when a ringing broke through the haze. Blinking in confusion, Mike's look went toward the hall. He remembered disabling the downstairs buzzer and the sound was different from his front door buzzer. Frowning, Mike looked at the time. Two a.m. And the ringing was coming from his landline phone.

Mike felt a shiver creeping up his spine. The phone was still ringing and there was a sudden thump on the wall and an angry neighbor's voice rumbling. Mike hesitantly reached for the phone, putting the receiver to his ear.

"Hello?" he asked, aware of how many horror movies started out just that way. He was hoping this was a mistake, a prank call from one of the associates. But there was no reply, only the sound of breathing. Mike didn't ask who it was or what they wanted. He slammed the receiver down so hard it almost cracked and stared at the phone, not even noticing how shaky his hand was. "What the hell is going on?" he muttered and then almost jumped out of his skin when the phone started ringing again.

"Fuck!" he cursed and reached for the plug in the wall before his neighbors decided to do more than just thump on the wall to stop the noise.

"Damn," Mike sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Either someone from Pearson Hardman decided to play some pranks on him, or someone had a personal vendetta against Mike. Either way, Mike felt the tight coil around his stomach as he realized this meant trouble. But this was not the time to panic. So far, it were just phone calls _and maybe a sabotaged bike_, Mike's mind supplied, but he decided to ignore the thought for the moment. He needed sleep but first he needed to get something to drink. Walking to the kitchen, Mike gulped down a whole bottle of cold water. Passing the front door he paused momentarily, looking through the peep hole feeling like a five year old watching a horror movie. The hallway was dark though, not even the emergency light was on and Mike quickly put the cover back on the peep hole, making sure the door was locked.

"Don't be an idiot," Mike muttered and hesitantly turned his back on the door, heading towards his bed. He had a sudden urge to call someone, either Harvey or Donna, as if either of them could scare away the boogeyman.

"There are no monsters, Mikey," he remembered his Grandmothers words even as he slipped under the covers. "Only crazy people," he added with a grimace and went to sleep, without any further interruptions.

**OoooO**

It was Sunday night and Mike was almost dreading going to sleep. His plan was to stay up till two a.m., just to make sure that his wannabe stalker didn't decide to pay him a little visit, now that he'd disabled the buzzer and the phone. Some Red Bull and a movie marathon helped him stay conscious up till midnight, but he must've dozed off between the commercials, because suddenly he heard the familiar tone of his cell phone. Two a.m. Right on time, he noted with frustration, even as he grabbed his phone and looked at the caller ID. _Unknown Number_, displayed the screen, and Mike fought the urge to throw the phone against the wall. He waited until the call ended, then tried to redial the number. The phone rang, and Mike was about ready to hang up, when it was picked up. Startled, Mike waited. There was the sound of breathing on the other side, but nothing else. He thought it might've been a male, but that was all the clues he got, and it frustrated him as well as scared him. Unable to hold back any longer, Mike shouted into the phone.

"What the hell do you want? Who are you?"

Silence. The breathing was still calm and steady and it played with Mike's nerves more than any words could.

"Go to hell and stop calling me!" he shouted and ended the call. He was breathing heavily even as his phone started ringing again.

"Damn it!" The same number. Mike had enough. Cursing, he turned off the phone, throwing it at the couch. He needed to think, to breathe. Walking across the room, Mike opened the window and poked his head outside, taking in a huge gulp of air. The street below was clear, no people milling around, and he wouldn't have even noticed the car if it hadn't suddenly started up its engine and headed out of the lot. Mike blinked. He couldn't see the plates, but he was pretty sure it was the same grey Ford he'd seen before. He watched as the car drove out onto the street and vanished around a corner. Funnily, it made him feel a little relieved. Whoever was stalking him, decided to leave for now. Closing the window, he flopped down on his couch and turned the TV off. Despite his best intentions, this night sleep didn't come easily and when it did, it was filled with nightmares.

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

Harvey knew the moment he walked into his office that something was wrong. Donna was throwing concerned glances towards the cubicles with the associates and when she brought him his morning coffee, there was a frown on her face. Harvey raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Don't tell me I forgot someone's birthday," he said and Donna rolled her eyes.

"Nope, I've already sent myself a nice card from you, along with an airplane ticket to Boca," she said in her all serious tone and Harvey's eyes twinkled.

"But you might want to check your puppy and maybe take him to the vet. He looks like road kill. Even Louis hesitated for a second before handing him another pile of files."

Harvey frowned, not even questioning how Donna knew.

"I think my puppy is smart enough to stay clear of roads," he said, as he sipped on his coffee. While he wanted to check on Mike, there was no sense to rush. The kid was safely tucked into a cubicle. Getting up before his coffee was finished would look like caring, and even though the smirk on Donna's face said he wasn't fooling her, there were other people in the office.

Once he finished the cup though and checked on his appointments with Donna, there was no reason to wait any longer. After all, Mike had some files that should've been already lying on Harvey's desk, and Harvey was planning to tell him just that – up untill the moment he got a good look at Mike.

The kid was slumped in his chair, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. His right wrist was bandaged and there were small scrapes on his face and neck. But what worried Harvey most was the lost look on his face. He looked down right pitiful and a little edgy, which was proven when Harvey stepped up to his desk.

"Mike," he said and the kid almost jumped out of his skin.

"What?" he asked, eyes wide before he realized who was standing before him and relaxed into the chair.

"My office. Now," Harvey barked and turned on his heels, sure Mike would follow. It took a little longer than he would've liked, the kid was moving slowly, and was that a limp or did he just slump that much? Shaking his head in frustration, Harvey nodded at Donna to let her know he didn't want to be disturbed.

"Sit down," he growled when Mike finally arrived and watched as the kid sat down, looking all kinds of worried.

"What the hell's going on?" he asked after a moment of silence and Mike blinked, squirming.

"No-" he started, but Harvey waved his hand dismissively.

"Don't even think about saying nothing. You look like you've been dragged to hell and back." At that Mike gave a choked laugh and Harvey's frown deepened. He didn't like the sound of that. Deciding that maybe he should start with an easy question, he pointed to Mike's wrist.

"What's with that? Did you get into a fight?"

Mike looked at his wrist then up at Harvey. He was tired and his brain felt fuzzy with lack of sleep, his stomach rolling uncomfortably. There was no hiding it, he was scared and Harvey saw right through him. Maybe it was time to fess up and ask for help.

"I think I'm being stalked," he said and waited for a reaction. He thought Harvey might dismiss him as he did previously when he pointed out the car that was following them, or even ridicule him. But Harvey only raised an eyebrow questioningly, waiting for an explanation. So Mike took a deep breath and relayed all the previous events to Harvey. By the end of it, Mike watched Harvey's face for any clues of ridicule but there was none. Only a look of concentration, and that intense focus Harvey always had when presented with a new case.

"When I turned my phone on this morning, I had three missed calls, from two different numbers." Mike didn't tell Harvey that he'd been too afraid to leave his apartment through the front door and chose to go through the back, watching the street for the familiar grey Ford until he could meddle with the people in the subway.

"Did you try and call back those numbers?" Harvey asked matter of fact, and Mike nodded.

"Last night I called back and someone picked up. All I heard was breathing, nothing else. When I tried calling this morning, both numbers were disconnected."

"Here, write them down. I have someone who could check the records." Mike scribbled down the numbers from memory and handed the paper back to Harvey, watching him with that lost look of his.

"What should I do?" Mike asked, and Harvey let out a sigh. He wanted to tell the kid that everything would be alright, not to concern himself and focus on the job, but he knew this was not an issue that could be ignored. If his years in the law industry had taught Harvey anything, it was the fact that these things tended to escalate. And he didn't want to see what the stalker might have planned out for Mike next.

"Keep a low profile. Change your phone number; maybe stay with Jenny for few days?"

Mike shook his head resolutely.

"I don't want to drag her into this. If I am being followed, the guy would find me anywhere and … no. I won't endanger her. I've already called gram's home and told them not to let any strangers visit her or give out any information. I shouldn't have gone to see her Saturday, it was stupid-" Mike rambled and Harvey put a hand on his shoulder.

"Stop it. I'm sure your grandmother is safe."

"But what if-"

"No buts, Mike. Take a breath and calm down. So far all those things were just stupid pranks and while they are scary, they have been no threats against your grandmother or Jenny. You are the one that should be careful."

"Yeah, but how? I don't want to look over my shoulder every time I walk out of my apartment. I don't want to jump at every damn phone call I get!" Mike jumped off the couch, shrugging off Harvey's hand as he started pacing the office. Harvey caught the concerned look Donna was giving them and shook his head lightly, to indicate he had things under control.

"Mike?" he started but Mike seemed to be lost in his mind. "Mike! Listen to me," Harvey barked, but as soon as he got Mike's attention, his voice changed into a more soothing tone. "I know you're scared, but it's gonna be okay. I have a friend in the department and we will figure this out."

_When?_ Mike wanted to ask, but knew better than await false platitudes. Harvey seemed to sense the question though.

"Soon. Until then... Ray will drive you to and from work. And get yourself a new phone number."

Mike looked ready to protest but stopped himself. He had no bike and while riding the subway in rush hour seemed like a safe option, he was pretty sure that riding it at night, after staying in late at work, would pose different dangers.

"Okay," he said after a moment of hesitation. "Thanks," he added and felt as if some weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Because Harvey had it all under control and Harvey was the best closer in the city.

"Don't thank me yet, kid. You can send me a card once we catch the freak. But if you want to be helpful, I am sure there's a subpoena in need of filling out. And you better do it before eleven; Donna booked us an early lunch meet with Howard Stein."

"Aye aye, Captain," Mike saluted with a smile and left the office. Once the door closed and the kid was out of sight, Harvey slumped into his chair and for a moment let the mask slip from his face. He didn't want to scare the kid, but he was worried, and when Harvey was worried, things weren't good. It was time to call in a favor or two he decided, and picked up the phone.

OoooO

The phone numbers turned out to be burners, pretty much untraceable and probably already discarded. When Mike returned from the lunch meeting, there was a new phone card waiting on his desk, courtesy of Donna. He still checked his old number once a day to keep tabs on it. The second day he checked there were two missed calls, each from an unknown number, at two and four a.m. Mike grit his teeth, told Harvey and went on with life. By the end of the week, the calls all but vanished. By week two, Mike almost forgot there was someone out there who had been harassing him and he had to admit, having a private driver was kind of cool. Ray always waited to make sure Mike got inside safely.

They all fell into the new routine and Mike started wondering when would Harvey say enough, that the danger had passed and it was time for Mike to man up. In any case, at least Mike was sleeping easier. The world seemed to be back on track and as new cases provided new challenges, he let himself be lulled into a false sense of security.

OoooO

It was another Friday night and Mike wished Ray a nice weekend. For once he managed to leave work before Harvey, but that was only because the senior associates had some kind of an annual staff meeting, which Harvey had called boring and tried to wriggle out of, but neither Jessica nor Donna allowed it, each having secret pleasure at seeing Harvey squirm. The closer went as low as to ask Mike to call him with some 'emergency' but one look from Donna made Mike shake his head and mouth 'sorry boss, not worth risking my life over it'. He could swear he saw Harvey mouth 'coward' as he made a hasty retreat towards the elevator.

Mike entered his apartment with a small smile on his face. While he loved his job, it was often challenging and tiring. Having two days off, being able to spend them however he wanted, was pure heaven. He was still smiling, keys in one hand, the other reaching to turn on the light, when something moved in his peripheral vision. Leather clad hands shot out from the dark. Mike had no chance to react, no time to scream. He caught sight of a gun descending before he felt a crack and a shock of pain through his head, the impact sending him careening to the floor. He landed with a thud but even through it he could hear the ominous sound of his front door, the lock clicking closed.

Blinking dazedly from the floor, Mike looked upwards to the person towering over him. He couldn't see much in the darkness, the room was lit only by the light of the streetlamps coming in from the windows, but there was no doubt his assailant was a man, and probably a well built one. Mike fought down a hysterical chuckle when he saw the black ski mask covering the face. It was such an absurd sight that for a second he thought it was all just a nightmare. But then the man moved, his foot kicking Mike right in the abdomen and Mike rolled over with a grunt, the reality slamming into him with equal pain. He was locked in his apartment with his stalker, who was obviously armed and holding some kind of a grudge. Mike had no weapons at his disposal, he couldn't fight for shit, and it was the start of a weekend-no one will be looking for him. His outlooks were less than positive.

There was a click and a soft light filled the room. Mike blinked up through the haze of tears and pain, only to see the gun being pointed at his face, the hand holding it just a little shaky. Mike swallowed and tried to calm his breathing down enough to speak.

"W-who-" his voice cracked and he reconsidered his question. "What do you want?" he asked instead, hating how his voice shook.

The man holding the gun watched him wordlessly, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a cable tie. He ignored Mike's startled jerk as he threw the thing at him.

"Put it on, both hands," he said and waved the gun at Mike. "Do it!" he barked when it took a moment for Mike to figure out what was being asked of him. Then he realized the cable was the modern and cheap version of handcuffs. His fingers fumbled with the plastic cuffs, buying precious time while his brain tried to come up with a way out. There were several that crossed his mind, but none that wouldn't end up with someone shot, and in all those scenarios it was him. He couldn't kick out the gun from the man's hand because he wasn't standing _that_ close. Mike could try and roll away, hide behind his couch, but that would only buy him a few extra seconds. Right now, the only way to stay alive was to cooperate and bide his time. After all, the man wore a mask which meant he was still afraid Mike could identify him. Which meant he could stay alive. "Are you deaf? Put it on, or Specter will get your hand instead of a call as an invitation."

"What... what do you want with Harvey?" Mike asked, suddenly feeling cold.

"Handcuffs," came the growl and a warning kick into Mike's left shin, just to drive the point home. Grunting, Mike quickly put on the handcuffs and looked up for more instructions, all the while trying to figure out how Harvey fell into the equation. Or maybe – how did _he –_ equate. "Up, on the couch. And no funny moves."

The _or else_ was loud and clear, so Mike slowly, carefully rolled over to his stomach and pushed himself up to his knees, hissing when his wrist still protested under the pressure. The man watched his movements, the gun never wavering off target, yet always far enough so that Mike couldn't reach for it even if he found the courage.

Once Mike settled down on the couch, the attacker pulled up a chair and sat down opposite of him. Mike tried hard not to squirm when the green eyes bore into his face. The silence was broken only by the sounds of breathing coming from the two men as they faced off. Mike broke eye contact first, after all, he wasn't the one holding the gun. The other man seemed satisfied.

"Where's your phone?" he asked suddenly and Mike startled.

"What?"

"Your phone," the man repeated impatiently, and Mike could practically hear the added _idiot_ in his voice. Harvey would've just rolled his eyes.

"In the bag," he said and the man stood up and walked over to Mike's discarded messenger bag, keeping the gun pointed at him while his other hand rummaged through the bag, trying to find the phone.

"God, this is worse than my wife's purse," he grumbled and finally just upturned the whole bag, various documents, pens and Mike's phone falling all over the floor. Picking up the phone he made his way back to the chair.

"If you cooperate, you will get out of here alive." While it was supposed to sound reassuring, Mike felt anything but, as he heard the dark undertone. There was promise of pain for misbehaving, and he wasn't even the one who the dude was after.

"What do you want from me?" Mike asked, not sure where the courage came from. The man looked up from his cell phone, giving him a scrutinizing look that made Mike's skin crawl.

"Let's just say you're bait, or maybe my secret ace in the trial." Even under the mask, Mike was pretty sure the man smiled. "Now let's get one thing clear. You will send a message to your boss. If he comes here, alone – you live. If he doesn't or if he brings the cops – you die. Is that clear?"

Mike blinked, taking in what was said. "W-what do you want with Harvey?" he asked even as the man put the phone into his palm.

"That doesn't concern you."

"I won't text him if you're planning to shoot him," Mike replied heatedly, throwing the phone away. This time he saw the hand coming but he couldn't stop it from hitting him in the face. The room became blurry as his head hit the armrest of the couch and his face stung from the slap.

"You will do as I say, or I _will_ kill you," the man hissed, and pushed the recovered phone back into Mike's shaking hand.

"Okay, okay. I'll do it," Mike said quickly and blinked, trying to clear his vision enough to see the keypad on the phone. "W-what do you want me to say to him?"

"I don't care, but make sure he will be here within the hour. Or he can start looking for a new associate."

Mike swallowed and started typing. When he finished he handed the phone back to his captor for revision. The man looked at it then with a satisfied nod pushed the send button.

"Now what?" Mike asked.

"We wait," was the simple answer and the man sat down in the chair opposite of Mike.

Several minutes were spent in silence as Mike tried to calm down and think, but it was an impossible task. Every time he managed to slow his breathing, a motion or a glint of metal brought his eyes right back to the gun that was pointed at his chest and panic took hold. He tried to imagine what would happen, how Harvey would come and talk down this mad man, or how Harvey would get that the message was a call for help and would involve the police. Those were the positive options that came to mind, but they were harshly overpowered by the images of Harvey being shot in the head and laying in a pool of blood, right next to Mike's own dead body. There were many more scenarios, but none ended well for Mike or Harvey.

Mike couldn't take the silence anymore, not with those thoughts running through his mind. And wasn't it said somewhere that the victim should try to talk to his kidnapper? To create a bond, to humanize himself, whatever. It was worth a shot, Mike thought.

"So..." Mike started carefully, letting out a silent breath when that simple word didn't cost him more than a twitch of the head. "You were the guy calling in the middle of night?" The man watched him a moment, then gave a slight nod. "And the bike. You were the one who messed it up?" Another nod and Mike gave a slight shake of head in disbelief. "Why? Why do it all?" he dared to ask, but there was no reaction. "Did I do something to you?" A headshake and Mike was becoming frustrated. "Then what? Why did you target me of all people? Was it because I work for Harvey?" The man's eyes flashed with hate and Mike instinctively recoiled. Still, there were no words and Mike needed to know. "What did Harvey do to you? Did he seduce your wife? Run over your dog?" There was a warning growl and Mike realized that mocking the man with the gun wasn't the brightest idea. "Did he win a case?"

That one got a reaction. The man jumped off the chair and pushed Mike back into the cushions, hissing angrily. "Win a case? Of course the bastard won the case! He manipulated the jury; the damn judge herself was on his side. The fucker cost me my job, he cost me my whole life!" the man shouted, spit flying from his mouth, the hand holding the gun waving dangerously close to Mike, who was frozen with fear. "And I am gonna make him pay," the man said coldly. "Now shut up or I will do it for you." With that he gave Mike a warning push on the chest, and returned to his chair.

For the first time Mike really hoped that Harvey would take the message just as a way out of the crappy meeting and not as a call for help. Because Mike was fairly sure that while the guy wasn't set on killing him, the same didn't apply to Harvey.

The two men fell back into tense silence, both waiting for something else. Mike was still rattled by the outburst and he couldn't find the courage to speak up again, never-mind that the stillness made him jittery. After fifteen minutes of waiting, Mike started to wish that something would happen, anything really. The waiting was torture and all he wanted was for things to end. He started thinking about a possible escape, about wrestling the gun out of the man's hand. A bullet couldn't be as bad as the images his brain kept showing him, surely.

Mike thought he was scared, but it was nothing compared to what he felt when there was a knock on his door. Both Mike and his captor jumped. Mike's heart skipped a beat as he realized that it was too late. Harvey was there and in a few moments he would be shot by this crazy man, just because Mike sent him a message telling him to come over. As if in a haze, Mike saw his captor stand up, give him a warning glance, and then nod towards the door.

_Go_, came the silent command. _No stupid moves._

Mike stood and headed for his front door, every step feeling like his last one. It couldn't end like this, he couldn't let Harvey die. Not in his home, not now. Not after the man gave him a second chance at life. That just wasn't fair. And Mike maybe wasn't the bravest person, but he knew what he had to do.

The moment he reached the door, Mike shouted a warning.

"Run! He's got a gun!"

The next few seconds were a blur. Mike spun around and threw himself at his captor, taking him by surprise. The movement sent them both sprawling and for a stupid moment Mike thought that the gun had hit the floor, and that he had a chance. But his hands were cuffed and there wasn't much damage he could deal with them. He managed a solid head butt and a kick to the stomach before the captor threw him off and Mike felt his back hitting the wall, a pained yelp leaving his mouth as his elbow hit the hard surface. The collision set his nerves on fire, but it was nothing compared to the roaring rush of blood in his head as he heard the click of the safety and felt the cold metal of the gun being pushed against his forehead. Everything went still and Mike barely breathed.

"That was what I meant by _stupid move_," the man said, breathing harshly. Mike looked up and for the first time since the man had broken in, he saw his face. Sometime during the scuffle, the mask had come off and Mike's eidetic memory could finally match the voice to the face. It was the man that had helped him after his bike accident, who introduced himself as Eddie Banks. Mike was pretty sure it wasn't the man's real name. He was also pretty sure that his chances of survival had just plummeted to zero.

He was now staring into the barrel of the loaded gun, for the umpteenth time that night it seemed, yet this was to be the last one for sure. Because in a second, Mike's brain would splatter on the white wall behind, making an exquisite mess. Mike thought that this would be a great time for his whole life to flash before his eyes, but the only thing he saw was that damn gun, and the only person he could think of was Harvey, standing on the other side of the door. If he'd stayed despite the warning, he would hear the shot that killed Mike, and would either run or come inside. And then he would die too. Mike wanted to protest, wanted to call a time out and somehow fix this mess. He wanted to wake up. But in the end all he could do was close his eyes and wait for death. Because he didn't want to see the bullet coming.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **_Thank you all for the awesome reviews, will try to get back to you in time. In exchange, here is the last chapter._**  
**

**CHAPTER 3**

It never came.

There was a loud crack of splintering wood, then a voice shouting: "Drop the gun! Put it down!"

Mike's eyes shot open just as his attacker turned to face the new threat, his eyes going wide. The cold metal of the gun turned away from Mike and swiveled towards his wanna be rescuer.

There was a loud pop and a scream and Mike felt a drop of something warm land on his face. In slow motion, he saw his attacker jerk as the bullet hit his shoulder, the gun falling to the ground next to Mike, shortly followed by the man himself.

The guy who had saved him rushed inside, toward the fallen man, kicking the gun out of his reach and quickly handcuffing the attacker. Only then did he look at Mike.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a much calmer tone than Mike thought possible under the circumstances. He gave a shake of the head and blinked stupidly at the man. Mike was confused and dazed. Just a moment ago, he thought he was gonna die. Now he'd been saved by a stranger. Mike didn't know what to do, what to think.

"W-who are you?" he finally asked as the stranger made short work with his handcuffs, freeing Mike's hands.

"Todd Sander. Mr. Specter called me few weeks ago, to keep an eye on you. I was following you home, making sure no one else was behind us. This guy must've gotten in before you and waited. I'm sorry. I should've taken that possibility into account," Todd looked genuinely sorry but Mike just shook his head, still stuck on the fact that Harvey had called someone to keep an eye on him.

"How... how did you know I was in trouble?"

"I called him," came a gruff voice from the door, and there he was, Harvey Specter himself, looking so out of place in his three piece suit and slicked up hair, yet so right. For the first time since this whole thing started, Mike felt safe. The relief must've been apparent on his face, because Todd patted his shoulder encouragingly, and then stood up to make room for Harvey. As he did, Harvey got his first look at Mike's attacker and his face darkened. If Mike hadn't known who the target of Harvey's anger was, he would've been scared.

"Bill Reinhold," Harvey hissed and without warning kicked the fallen man in the ribs. "Why don't you stand up and fight like a man, instead of pointing a gun at the kid? Huh?" Harvey shouted, and Mike was pretty sure he would've continued pummeling the man, but Todd grabbed him and pushed him against the wall.

"Stop it!" he shouted. "The cops will be here any minute. You don't want to give the bastard any leverage in court, do you? You're a lawyer, so think like one!" Todd hissed and waited until Harvey's breathing slowed down and the murderous look vanished from his eyes. "Good. I'll take care of this one until the cops arrive, you take care of your boy. He looks a little shaken."

Harvey threw Mike a worried look and nodded. "Okay. But I need to tell him something," Harvey said, pointing at Reinhold, who was starting to come around and was trying to clutch at his wounded shoulder.

"As long as you're just talking," Todd said with a smirk and let go of Harvey.

Mike watched, half dazed, as Harvey leaned down, practically breathing the words into Reinhold's ear. Mike didn't hear what had been said, but he was sure Reinhold heard every word. He was also sure they put the fear of god in him, if the look in his eyes was anything to go by. Somehow, Mike didn't care. All that mattered now was that Harvey was there, that neither of them were dead.

"I'm sorry," Mike said as soon as Harvey knelt down next to him.

"For what?" Harvey frowned, even as his fingers started roaming over Mike's torso, checking for any open wounds. Mike hissed as Harvey touched his side and the bruise caused by Reinhold's foot. As if starting a chain reaction, all his bruises came to life and Mike couldn't stop the groan of pain. Harvey pulled away, startled by the reaction. "Mike?"

"It's okay," Mike said with clenched teeth, even as he tried to pull himself up into a sitting position, to lean against the wall. "Just... feel like a bus run me over."

"Might've been safer," Harvey grumbled and helped Mike into a semi comfortable position. "Can you stand up? Think it would be better to put a little distance between us and that scumbag."

"Sure. As long... as you prop me up... " Mike grimaced as Harvey gave him a supporting hand and helped him up. "...and promise not to dock my pay for any blood that might end up on your suit," Mike got out between clenched teeth.

"As if your pay could ever cover the cost of this suit," Harvey snorted and led Mike towards the couch, lowering him into the cushions. Mike frowned, nervously fidgeting.

"What? You gonna hurl?" Harvey asked seeing his face pale. Mike grit his teeth and tried to calm his breathing. After the wave of nausea eased, he sighed.

"I'm okay. But I'll have to burn the couch," he said in all seriousness and Harvey only raised an eyebrow. Then he reached into his vest for the obligatory handkerchief and pushed it against a wound on Mike's head.

"Ow," Mike said but didn't try to get away. He blinked owlishly, the adrenaline starting to fade and the head wound making him slightly sleepy. Harvey peered into his eyes worriedly, patting at his cheek gently.

"Mike? Hey, kid. Stay awake."

"I want it to be over Harvey," Mike whined pathetically and later he would have to put that tone down for concussion, because no way was he _whining_ to his boss.

"It is already over, kid. Now we just have to wait for the EMT's so they can patch you up. You have to at least be awake to tell them hi. It would be rude not to. Now what were you saying sorry for?" Mike frowned, not sure what Harvey was asking, or maybe just not wanting to understand. But Harvey was the best closer in the city and when he wanted an answer, he was going to get one. So he touched Mike's chin until the kid was looking right up at him. "When I came in, you said you were sorry. What for?"

"Writing that message. I swear I didn't think you'd come, Harvey. I didn't want you to die," Mike mumbled, his eyes pleading with Harvey for understanding.

"God, kid."

Harvey had to take a deep breath to try and calm down. It must've been the concussion. There was no other possible reason for the kid to apologize for sending an innocent message while being held at gunpoint. No way Mike Ross was that gullible. After two more breaths and an eye roll, Harvey told him just that. He also added something about idiotic puppies trying to save their masters with milk teeth. Or something like that, Mike wasn't sure. The words started losing meaning and the room started spinning, so Mike closed his eyes.

The only thing Mike wanted right now was to sleep. He was hurting and tired, and he wanted to leave behind the images his memory was serving him, if only for a few minutes of rest, but there was a commotion somewhere near and Mike's eyes jerked open, the fear back. "What?" he asked, looking around in panic.

"Sh, it's okay. You're safe," Harvey's calming voice surrounded him as his hand rested on Mike's chest, right over his heart. Mike blinked and Harvey nodded towards a young woman in EMT's uniform. "The ambulance and the police just arrived."

"Oh." Mike looked around his apartment, for a fleeting second wondering if he had any pot left behind from his days with Trevor that the cops could find, before remembering that he got rid of everything the day he realized that the life Harvey offered him could be real. Shaking off the sudden nostalgia, Mike gave the EMT a sheepish smile.

"Hi," he said when the woman introduced herself as Cherry and started asking him questions. He thought it was real nice of him to stay awake during the initial exam she gave him, but he drew the line when a cop entered the room and wanted to know when he would be able to give his statement. He heard Harvey's voice jumping in and decided that his boss had it all under control.

EPILOGUE

It was Saturday afternoon and Harvey walked next to Mike's wheelchair, who was finally leaving the hospital. The previous night was one best put behind him, what with the attack itself, and then the following chaos with the emergency services. While Mike was being whisked away into the exam room, Harvey was pulled aside by a detective investigating the case.

He explained his own involvement as well as all the facts he knew about the stalking. Luckily, Todd Sander wasn't new in the field and had known the detective, so the rest of the explaining fell on his shoulders. Mike was given a reprieve from questions until the next morning, when the doctors allowed visitors. Harvey was by his side during that, posing as moral as well as legal support, though by the time Mike finished speaking he almost matched the kid's own pallid coloring. Despite Mike having suffered a mild concussion, his eidetic memory served him well, and he could recall every moment with startling quality. While the detective was more than happy with that, Harvey felt like leaving the room several times. He wasn't sure what affected him more, the many times during which Mike's life hanged on the squeeze of a finger, or Mike reciting the events matter of fact, in a cold disinterested tone. Both things made his stomach churn and wish for a drink. In the end, he shook the detectives hand and gave Mike a supportive smile, which the kid totally ignored. Sighing, Harvey settled himself back in the chair, waiting for the nurse to come with the release papers.

OoOoO

Mike felt strangely numb. He knew he should hurt; he had more bruises than after a fateful wrestling match in his third year in high school, a mild concussion and a cracked rib. The meds they gave him at the hospital were already wearing off and he could _feel_ the pain, but somehow it wasn't important. All he could focus on were the images of the gun being pointed in his face, the touch of the finger on the trigger.

"Mike?" Harvey's voice pulled him out of his thoughts and Mike blinked, eyes looking around wildly. He was in the car and Harvey was watching him with something akin to worry. The look didn't fit Harvey at all. It made him look out of control, and if Mike knew one thing, it was that Harvey Specter never lost control. Well, almost never.

"If you feel sick, just let me know. The nurse gave me some nifty paper bag you could use to save Ray's upholstery."

"That would be much appreciated sir," came the somehow amused voice from the driver's seat and Mike fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"I'm not gonna hurl," he said, though as the car turned a corner he was about to reconsider. Luckily-for Ray's upholstery-they just pulled over.

"We're here. Do you need some help sir?" Ray asked and Harvey gave Mike a studious look, before shaking his head.

"No, thank you. I think we will manage. Right?"

Mike shot him an annoyed look but didn't protest when Harvey grabbed his arm and helped him get out of the car. And Mike's head must've been really scrambled because it took him half the trip towards the elevators before he realized that this wasn't his building and that Harvey was taking him to his own apartment.

"Why are we here?" he asked, balking only slightly as Harvey pushed him inside the elevator.

"Because your apartment will be a crime scene until tomorrow and I'm not letting you sleep in some ratty hotel with a concussion."

"Who said I would pick a ratty hotel?" Mike protested, slightly offended but Harvey didn't find it worth a reply.

"Donna was ready to take you in, but she has family visiting and anyway, she would spoil you rotten. I couldn't allow that."

"So I can stay at your place?" Mike asked just to make sure.

"No, there's a cot and a bowl of milk waiting for you outside my door," Harvey said with sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"I think you're mixing up your pets, Harvey. Milk is more for kittens than puppies you know," Mike joked and Harvey couldn't stop the chuckle.

"Oh, shut up. This is a pet free zone anyway."

"Do not fear, I am house trained," Mike said, as Harvey unlocked the door and let him into the apartment.

"Niiiice," Mike whistled as he got a look around. The place was just as elegant as Harvey's office, but it was a little cozier, maybe because there were signs of living around. Fresh fruit on the kitchen counter, a t-shirt lying haphazardly over a chair. Several photos of Harvey with strangers, one with a guy that bore a startling resemblance to Harvey, and Mike realized it must've been his brother. He wanted to ask, but Harvey had momentarily vanished in the kitchen.

"Are you thirsty or hungry?" he asked after a moment, peering from behind the counter and Mike gave a slight shake of head, fending off nausea at the mere thought of food.

"Nah, thanks."

"You better keep hydrated," Harvey said and pushed some bottled water into Mike's hands, opening one for himself too.

"I don't really feel like eating anytime soon," Mike said with a sigh. Harvey only shrugged and nodded towards the couch.

"Sit down, watch some TV. We need to talk, but first I need to take a shower," Harvey wrinkled his nose, frowning at the gritty feel of his clothes. Suits really weren't meant to be slept in while waiting in a hospital chair.

"Can't argue with that," Mike said, thinking about taking a shower himself, though he knew that he was too tired to stay upright for even that long. Then his brain caught up with the first half of the sentence.

"Talk? About what?"

Harvey gave him a look that screamed 'What do you think genius?' All he said instead was: "Five minute shower. If you need anything, tell me now. I don't want to find you passed out on the kitchen floor because you were looking for a glass or something."

"I got it. Stay on the couch, like a good puppy. " Mike rolled his eyes and Harvey was of half a mind to pat him on the head. "The remote would be nice though," Mike added as an afterthought, as Harvey turned for the bathroom.

OoOoO

All Harvey wanted was to stay under the hot spray of water for an hour, to let it wash away all the grime and tension. Maybe if he didn't have an injured Mike sitting on his couch he would have given into the temptation. Instead he turned the water cold for few seconds to give himself a jolt then turned it off completely. It was time to give the kid some answers.

He entered the living room thinking he would find Mike watching TV or sleeping. Mike was doing neither. Instead, he was cuddled up in the corner of the couch, eyes wide and terrified, barely breathing. Frowning, Harvey crossed the room and put a hand on Mike's shoulder, trying to bring him out of the nightmare. Mike yelped and shrugged off the hand, practically leaping off the couch.

"Mike!" Harvey shouted as he saw Mike stumble at a sudden wave of dizziness. "God kid," he muttered as he grabbed Mike's flailing arm and steered him back to the couch. "Calm down. You are safe, do you hear me Mike? You're safe!" Harvey repeated until Mike's eyes focused on his face and his breathing approached normal. As soon as that happened, Mike's face turned from white to crimson as he realized he'd just freaked out in front of his boss.

"I'm sorry Harvey," he started but Harvey shook his head, annoyed.

"Stop apologizing, you idiot. None of this is your fault."

"I can't stop seeing that damn gun," Mike whispered, then hid his head inside his palms, trying to pull himself together. He felt the couch dip and heard a sigh as Harvey put a hand on his back.

"It's all fucked up," Harvey said and Mike had to look up, because he never heard that tone before.

"What?"

"Yesterday, this whole month. It shouldn't... it shouldn't have happened. Not to you."

Harvey looked genuinely sorry and Mike blinked, because of all the persons that could be blamed for the attack, he never once thought it was Harvey's fault. Yet the man looked almost guilty.

"I don't understand. Not to me?"

"Reinhold shouldn't have used you, to get to me. I… never considered that angle when I hired Sander."

"Uh, concussion," Mike pointed at his head, looking lost and Harvey realized he owed the kid an explanation.

"When you came to me after the bike accident and the phone calls, I called a friend working as a private investigator. She recommended Sanders so I hired him. We both thought this was a personal attack against you, and with your history-"

"You mean Trevor and the goons," Mike sighed, remembering how Harvey literally saved both their asses that day. Harvey nodded.

"Yeah, Trevor and his friends. I thought this might be some of his other _friends_ trying to get to him through you. But Sanders couldn't find any connection, so we started looking through the cases in which you played a part in, but we couldn't find anything either, and then the calls stopped and the trail went cold. We never once thought it might be someone holding a grudge against _me_."

Mike thought about it, feeling a twitch of disappointment, maybe even anger. Because Harvey was supposed to trust him, and he should've known that Mike was done with Trevor and with everything else from his past. But the anger surged out and Mike knew it wasn't really warranted anyway. After all, he did get into trouble with Trevor and it was much more likely to think he'd made enemies, rather than that Harvey's enemies would come after him. If he thought about it, it was kind of flattering. Bill Reinhold thought that hurting him would hurt Harvey. Which meant a total stranger noticed that Harvey cared about him, thought of him as friend – or a stray puppy. But it still didn't explain where all the hate came from.

"What did you do to him? To Reinhold?" Mike asked carefully. Harvey looked at him, and then rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"I didn't do anything, not to Reinhold personally."

"But he was somehow involved, he lost something," Mike insisted. He knew Harvey looked tired and he was starting to feel every bruise, the shock of the events finally starting to fade. Maybe they should've postponed the topic until after they both had gotten some sleep, but Mike wanted to know the truth, wanted to know why he would have to see the gun pointed at his face every time he closed his eyes to rest. So he did what Harvey taught him. He pushed where it hurt.

"You took something from him and he wanted to take something from you. That's why he went after me. But what did you take, Harvey?"

"I really don't know," Harvey answered frustratedly, running a hand through wet hair. "Do you remember the Eisenberg case?"

"Of course. I worked my ass off trying to find the loophole."

"And you did. It was in the accounting files, loud and clear. One of Eisenberg's accountants made a mistake and gave us a way in. Eisenberg had to fight to keep his business, let alone try to take over anyone else's. He knew how we got in, but he didn't know which accountant made the mistake. We made a deal with him in exchange for his anonymity so he would be protected. So because Eisenberg didn't know which accountant it was, he fired the whole team. The company is going down and as Reinhold had most of his money invested there, he's broke."

"So his wife left him and took everything else that was worth something," Mike said softly. "Still, why me? I didn't appear in court with you, there was no reason for him to go after me. Hell, Donna spent more time with you in court than I did, what with bringing you files and coffee..." Then Mike remembered a moment at court, almost two months ago when the Eisenberg case was finished. There were several people throwing angry glares at Harvey and Mike that day, but Mike had ignored them. He remembered how he and Harvey had joked around. If Reinhold followed them all the way to Pearson Hardman and then waited for Mike to come out, he would know which bike was his. And after the bike accident, Mike gave him a card with his name and contact. Mike cringed at the thought of how stupid it had been, how dangerous. He practically gave Reinhold everything he needed to target him and Mike felt a chill at the thought how easy it was, to ruin someone's life.

Harvey saw Mike blanch again and he had enough. It was time to end this discussion and to get some rest.

"Look kid, there's no sense in thinking about it. It's done and it's over," he said in his no nonsense voice and Mike looked at him. "For some reason, Reinhold chose you. I'm sorry you got hurt, I really am. If I could take back what happened, I would in a second. But I can't. We have to deal with the consequences."

"I know."

"You did good, Mike. Kept your head cool. I'm proud of you." Hearing that, Mike grinned and Harvey rolled his eyes. "Not a word of it to Donna, or I swear..."

At the mention of the secretary, Mike's smile vanished. "I'm just glad he picked me and not Donna," Mike said, shuddering at the thought of Donna being the one facing the gun.

"I dunno…" Harvey started and Mike shot him a startled look.

"What? You'd rather Donna faced down the crazy guy?" he asked, horrified.

"No, of course not you idiot. I would kill anyone who harmed a hair on her head. But... you must admit. Out of the two of you, I think Donna would've made Reinhold beg for his mommy before the cops arrived. Or make his body disappear without a trace," Harvey mused and after a moment of silence, Mike let out a chuckle.

"I think you're right. She would've totally made him cry," Mike smiled and leaned his head back on the couch. A big yawn broke through his face and Mike closed his eyes. The image of the gun flashed before his eyelids, but was promptly pushed back by a picture of Donna, standing fiercely by Mike's left, while Harvey stood over his right protectively.

**The End**


End file.
